An
Address Delivered by Marc MaurerPresident,
National Federation of the Blindat the Banquet
of the Annual ConventionLouisville,
Kentucky, July 3, 2003

The velvet black of the
night sky bedight with jeweled stars beckoned;The ever-changing
rivulets among the waves along the shore reflected the dancing flashes of sunlight;The enthusiastic
restless breakers summoned the shore-bound to come a-roving.The dappled shadows
almost concealed the water nymph, who winked at the sojourner across the rippling
rapids.The captains came
marching to open new countries, explore unknown frontiers, establish trade routes.The blind man quietly
waited;He did not see the
flashing sun, the wink of the water nymph, the beckoning stars.He waited.Others told him,
when they were not too busy, of the far frontiers; of mighty commerce; of the
beauty of sun, sky, and stars.He waited.And when the waiting
was ended, he was old.

President
Maurer delivers the banquet address as those at the head table look on.

Such is one summation of
blindness, which even today constitutes the thinking of many members of the
general public, some people in the field of work with the blind, and a few blind
people themselves. This summation has no harsh criticism of the blind; no suggestion
of cruelty toward us; no obnoxious restriction on our behavior, our activity,
or our livelihood. Nevertheless, the depiction is completely erroneous and totally
false. In one sense it is more devastating than harshness or cruelty because
it contains an implied gentleness toward the blind, who are permitted to wait,
and because within it is an assumption that we are irrelevant--that we have
nothing to contribute--that we are without hope, without spirit, without an
irrepressible internal driving force. Exploration, romance, and adventure are
for somebody else--not for the blind. Beauty may be observed in the heavens,
the sea, or a woodland glade, but none of this is for us. We are relegated to
a closed set of experiences which are determined by somebody else. The exhortation,
though kindly meant, is as restrictive as an iron band. It is to wait; always
to wait.

In
1652 John Milton wrote a poem about his blindness. The most famous line of this
poem, which has ever since been regarded as reflecting a proper humility, is,
"They also serve who only stand and wait." Of course this line was
written 350 years ago; matters must have changed since then. My own experience
demonstrates that, despite the advances we have made (and we have made many
of them), blind people are often asked to wait. Much of the time we are told
to wait for somebody else to get us something, for somebody else to show us
where we are to go, for somebody else to invite us to participate in activities
in our communities. We are encouraged to believe that the waiting is valuable--if
not a high ideal. In 1863 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote, "All things
come round to him who will but wait." However, Longfellow did not have
the extensive experience that we possess. If waiting is the coin that must be
paid for all things that can come round, the blind should have such blessings
in abundance.

We
must have understanding for the goodwill that we encounter, and we must exercise
politeness because this is the attitude that promotes growth in civilized society.
But we must not forfeit our right to self-determination. No amount of politeness
requires the blind to wait for somebody else to make our decisions for us. If
we were to take this course, the waiting might continue indefinitely. In 1825,
Lord Macaulay warned of the danger inherent in this method of thought. He said:

Many
politicians of our time are in the habit of laying it down as a self-evident
proposition that no people ought to be free till they are fit to use their freedom.
The maxim is worthy of the fool in the old story, who resolved not to go into
the water till he had learnt to swim. If men are to wait for liberty till they
become wise and good in slavery, they may indeed wait forever.

Thus spoke Lord Macaulay,
and what he said of the generality of individuals is equally applicable to the
blind. There may be some who will call us precipitant. Be it so. Some will think
us rash. This cannot be helped. A few will proclaim us to be nothing short of
radical or militant. Let them call names if they like; our lives are on the
line, and we will live them to the fullest. As the spirit of our Federation
has made abundantly clear, we will seize the liberty that is our right; we will
not defer; we will not delay; we are no longer prepared to wait.

The
notion that blind people should wait suggests that we do not have the same capacity
as others and that somebody else should supervise our actions. It implies that
we are inferior to the sighted.

If
blindness means a fundamental diminution of ability, the blind should be content
to receive support and assistance, and they should recognize that waiting is
part of the process. If, however, the blind possess all of the capacity of the
general public except the ability to use vision, it is fair to expect as much
from the blind as from the sighted. It is also necessary to demand of society
that blind people be accepted on terms of equality.

To
illustrate certain factors that have an impact on the lives of the blind, consider
a fanciful analogy. If all mature human beings who are taller than six feet
two inches in height were regarded as less capable than those of shorter stature,
there would be an immediate and dramatic classification along the lines of physical
size. Short people would be favored, and tall people would be shunned. Growth
inhibitors would be sold to prevent the development of excessive height. High
heels would no longer be the fashion.

Benevolent
societies would be initiated to offer counseling and comfort to the unfortunate
tall. Special places would be set aside where these folk could interact with
one another out of the sight of their superiors, the short. Homes for the tall
would be established in which the tall could live without being constantly reminded
of their deformity. Fundraising drives would be undertaken to reduce the disadvantages
of financial want for the lanky and to provide adequate funding to pay the administrators
of institutions for the tall. Probably, in the course of time, specialized laws
would be established to prevent unreasonable exploitation of the tall. Certain
trades of a simple and repetitive nature with a suitably modest financial return
(the tall trades) would offer the tall meaningful occupations. Orientation classes
would be constructed to teach the tall techniques for managing their awkward
and ungainly frames.

Eventually
an entire structure of agencies to provide service to the tall would be established,
and an association of individuals involved in the field of rehabilitation for
the tall would come into being. Most of the members of this association would
be normal--not drawn from the ranks of the tall. However, occasionally an almost
normal person, a member of the tall with a small enough stature to pass for
normal, would be allowed to join. This would demonstrate appropriate concern
for including the views of the tall. But of course the majority of the members
of the association would be short and would possess high-powered degrees from
accredited universities with programs established to train the professionals
in the proper methods for providing instruction to the tall. These charitably
inclined instructors of the tall would interpret the needs of their clients
to the public and would minister to the wants of the disadvantaged minority.

The
instructors would also serve on the President's Committee for the Employment
of the Tall and other entities established for the benefit of the group. After
several decades of exploration and professional development with appropriate
scholarly examination of the psychological impact of being tall in a society
established by and operated for the short, there would be an adequate understanding
of the specialized problems faced by the tall, and all that would remain for
the professionals to accomplish would be the refinement of the tools and techniques
of the profession.

Of
course there would be a need to assure quality standards within the ranks of
the professionals in service to the tall, and standard-setting bodies would
be created. The tall would be rigidly excluded from consideration of such standards
except now and then as a matter of tokenism. This would be done to ensure the
high quality of programming for the tall. As administrators of programs for
the tall would observe, to invite the tall to assist in determining standards
for the programs that serve them would be equivalent to asking patients in the
hospital to design medical procedures.

But
suppose that the tall examined their condition and disagreed with the classification
assigned to them. Suppose they argued that the assumption of inferiority had
been based on false premises--that the length of one's body is no determiner
of mental capacity or of other characteristics that make a human being productive.
They might come together in a national organization to protest the arbitrary
determination of inability that had been imposed. They might petition the government
for a change in status. They might conduct public campaigns to alter the way
they were perceived by the members of the public at large. They might attempt
to have laws adopted that guaranteed their right to live in the world on an
equal basis with others. They might proclaim their determination to speak on
their own behalf. They might insist on the fundamental equality of the tall.
They might reject the assertion that the length of their bodies made them awkward
and ungainly. They might decide to abandon the homes and retreats for the tall,
asserting as they left them that they intended to be accepted within society,
not isolated from it. They might declare with unmistakable vigor that they would
decide for themselves what their lives would be. In the process of coming to
this understanding, the tall would say to certain of the administrators of programs
established to meet their needs, "You have offered what you believe is
kindness to us, but your kindness has included condescension and the attempt
to hold us in bondage. You have treated us like children, but we reject your
comprehension of our ability, and we insist that we be accepted as your equals.
Your assumptions are not ours. You have said that you will interpret our lives
for us, but this can no longer be done. If you will work with us, we will welcome
you in partnership. But you will no longer dominate our existence because we
will not permit it."

From
such a declaration conflict would probably erupt. Administrators of programs
for the tall (or, at least some of them) would regard the obstreperous malcontents
as ungrateful and would tell the members of the general public that these upstarts
were seeking to grab power--were attempting to dictate to agency administrators.
Undaunted by these attacks, the members of the organized tall movement would
build their own programs for training the tall and would find adherents among
officials in the ranks of those in work for the tall. After a period of confrontation,
greater harmony and cooperation than had previously existed would emerge in
the field of work for the tall.

With
growing cooperation and increasing harmony, the tall and administrators of programs
for the tall (an increasing number of them drawn from the ranks of the tall
themselves) would begin to wonder why there had ever been any conflict.

Is
this an apt analogy? Some will deny it. How can the physical height of a human
being reasonably be compared to blindness? Height is no barrier to employment
or social acceptance, they will say. However, consider no less an authority
than the military of the United States. A height requirement has sometimes been
imposed on applicants who seek to serve as fighter pilots. The planes were small,
the story goes, and nobody taller than five feet six inches would be accepted.

The
philosopher Francis Bacon has also added his weight of opinion. "Wise nature
[he said] did never put her precious jewels into a garret four stories high;
and therefore . . . exceeding tall men had ever very empty heads." No social
stigma? No impact on employment? Don't you believe it! At times the tall have
been an oppressed minority.

But
what of the blind? What have we done, and how have we fared since the time of
the founding of our movement at Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, in 1940? When the
National Federation of the Blind came into existence, the task before us was
monumental. Blind men and women were almost completely without jobs except in
a few sheltered workshops and a small number of vending stands. Education existed
for some at the school for the blind but rarely beyond. Participation in the
broader activities of the community was almost unknown. Public aid to the blind
programs had been established in a number of states, but these were often interpreted
in the most restrictive way. Our founder, Dr. Jacobus tenBroek, himself was
informed shortly after he graduated from high school that public assistance
would not be available to him if he attempted to enroll at the University of
California.

The
Books for the Blind program had come into being in the Library of Congress in
the early 1930's. State programs for the blind had been initiated in many places,
but rehabilitation was largely rudimentary and often unavailable. Despite these
dismal prospects, or more likely because of them, Dr. Jacobus tenBroek and a
handful of others brought the Federation into being. It was an act of hope and
faith, and it began a national movement that has for more than six decades been
encouraging the blind to recognize their own capacity and to act upon this understanding.
In one sense we who make up the organized blind movement are not what we were
at the time of our founding. There are more of us; we have become better organized;
we have gathered more resources; and we have more experience. In another sense
the Federation has not changed for all of the decades of its expansion and growth.
It is composed of the blind, and we have the same dreams, the same dedication,
the same history, and the same purpose as those who have preceded us. Furthermore,
we very often face the same dangers, and we are required to exhibit the same
determination and the same courage.

In
1940 the cruelty to the blind that had been permitted in former times was no
longer acceptable. Part of our heritage tells us that in Roman times blind infants
were exposed on the hills to die. Later, blind women were sold into slavery,
and in the medieval period blind men were exhibited at country fairs dressed
in donkeys' ears. They were made to fight each other for the amusement of the
crowd. Blindman's buff is a vestige of the game. One person is blindfolded while
others jostle, prod, and poke the blinded one, who is supposed to try to catch
them. The "buff" is a slap on the rump, probably shortened from the
word "buffet."

The
cruelty that was once associated with blindness is brought to mind because,
despite all of the progress we have made, there are still those who would deny
us our fundamental rights and who would assert their domination over us.

Dan
W. Brock, who claims to be a medical bioethicist, has written an article entitled
"Health Care Resource Prioritization and Discrimination against Persons
with Disabilities," published as part of a book issued in the year 2000
with the title Americans with Disabilities: Exploring Implications of the
Law for Individuals and Institutions. In his paper Brock says that, if medical
resources are scarce, they should be used to enhance the lives of those who
are most likely to have the best quality of life. Quality is defined by Brock.
He assumes that any disabled person will necessarily suffer a life with less
quality than the nondisabled. Hence, if there is one procedure to give, the
able-bodied applicant should get it. Brock does not explain why the life of
an able-bodied person contains more quality than the life of a disabled person.
He assumes that because individuals seek to avoid disabilities, this is an objective
measure of quality, which can be applied to all life.

Of
course, other characteristics might be inserted in Brock's so-called objective
analysis. For example, many people seek chocolate. Those who do believe that
the absence of chocolate is a disadvantage. The chocolate-deprived have a lower
quality of life than the chocolate-fulfilled. According to Brock's so-called
objective analysis, the chocolate-fulfilled (probably fatter than the chocolate-deprived)
should receive scarce medical procedures because of their superior quality of
life. I suspect Brock would quibble with this analysis, but it is based upon
his own approach.

There
is one term in Brock's writing which has a pseudo-scientific appearance. It
is QALY, which stands for Quality Adjusted Life Year. Here, in part, is what
Brock says:

Suppose two patients, of
whom one is blind but who are otherwise similar, each need a lifesaving organ
transplant, and there is only one available organ. Should the disability and
lower health-related quality of life of the blind patient, which will result
in fewer QALYs produced if she receives the transplant, give her lower priority
for the transplant? Many would say it should not, and so, presumably, does the
ADA [Americans with Disabilities Act]. Since one individual would prefer an
outcome where she survives in full health to one where she survives blind, we
can grant that in this respect the former is a better outcome.

Brock assumes that the
possession of the capacity to see makes the seeing life qualitatively better
than the one without sight. He claims that the lower quality of life of a blind
person indicates that from an objective point of view health care benefits should
be reserved for the sighted.

It
is not surprising that Brock also believes the fetuses of babies who are likely
to be born with disabilities should be aborted. In other words, kill the blind
while they are in the womb. If you can't kill them before they're born, withhold
treatment afterward. While you're at it, tell people that this is being done
in the name of ethics and fairness and impartiality and improving the quality
of life. What a shameful display of presumption, arrogance, and ignorance.

Brock
also tells us that the disabled require specialized services, that the money
for specialized services could have been spent on the able-bodied, and that
the able-bodied have a better quality of life than the disabled. Therefore,
to maximize quality of life, give the money to the able-bodied and eliminate
programs for the disabled. If programs for the disabled are to be tolerated,
the only justification for them (according to Brock) is the kindness and generosity
of the public.

The
assessment of diminished quality of life is made by Brock, who tells us that
he knows more about the quality of our lives than we do. The value of specialized
training for the disabled is determined by Brock, who tells us that he knows
more about its effectiveness than we do. The claim of moral superiority is that
of Brock, who asserts his right to decide what system will be used to justify
our future and our very existence. After telling us that we do not deserve it,
Brock says that he will permit us to work and travel and live as a matter of
kindness.

Brock
may think that he can interpret our lives and specify our futures, but he is
wrong! We the blind have something to say about what happens to us. We will
meet him in the lecture halls, in the pages of scholarly journals, in the corridors
of Congress, and (if necessary) we will meet him in the streets! We will do
battle for ourselves and for those who come after us. Let anybody who doubts
this determination come to our convention tonight. We will not let anybody belittle
us, bamboozle us, or betray us. Brock is not the deciding factor; we the organized
blind of the United States fill that role. If Brock recognizes the quality that
is within us, we will permit him to have a voice in affairs affecting our lives.
If he does not, he may turn his attention to any other field of endeavor for
which his limited capabilities make him qualified. We demand the liberty that
is our right. We will accept nothing less than full equality, and we will not
defer; we will not delay; we are simply no longer prepared to wait.

Are
blind people fatter than sighted people? Do we eat more than our sighted neighbors?
Such speculation has inspired much debate. Blind people, it is argued, are more
sedentary than others--after all, we are often told to wait. Sports are often
for sighted people--baseball, basketball, football, and volleyball. Tastebuds
(some people say) are enhanced in the blind because the brainpower which might
have been used for seeing is assigned to other sensory organs. The enhanced
sense of taste tempts the blind to eat. With these factors influencing the lives
of the blind, are blind people fatter than sighted people?

An
article appearing in the October 2002 issue of Prevention magazine provides
the following:

In
a recent Swedish study subjects ate 22 percent less food when they were blindfolded,
but they felt just as full as usual (Obesity Research, Feb 2002). So
taking vision out of the picture may work in your weight loss favor.

Without
the sense of sight [continues Prevention], you are forced to rely on
internal signals of satisfaction from your stomach and brain. Most of us normally
rely on external cues--an empty plate, the end of a TV show, or the bottom of
the bag--to tell us when we're full.

That is what Prevention
magazine said. The blindfolded get full faster than those who can see what they're
eating--22 percent faster. Probably we also save money on groceries. Blindness,
apparently, has hidden advantages. According to Prevention, because we're
blind, we're also slim.

Another
peculiar portrayal alleges that we who are blind have lost our sexuality. In
an article entitled "Folklore of Blindness" by A. Wagner-Lampl and
G.W. Oliver, which appeared in the May-June, 1994, issue of the Journal of
Visual Impairment and Blindness, the writers tell us that castration and
blindness are equivalent. They cite Sigmund Freud's analysis of the ancient
Greek play Oedipus Rex as evidence.

The equation of blindness
and castration [these authors tell us] is also shown in the Irish myth in which
prisoners are given the choice between emasculation and being blinded. Many
blind men and women who are in counseling report feeling generally impotent
and castrated and find themselves being treated by others as though they were
asexual.

So state these authors.
As I think about what they have said, I wonder how many blind people they have
met. I don't want to be personal about these things, but is this the way you
feel? My observation tells me that blind people are as bold, as charming, as
intriguing, and as sexy as anybody else. Those who believe that we have been
emasculated have something to learn. We will handle such matters with the discretion
they demand, but we will handle them, and we will take second place to nobody.
We have within us excitement, romance, and the capacity for love, and we will
not permit these virtues to be unrecognized. This, too, is part of what must
and will be ours!

In
1987, as I came to our banquet table for the first time as president of the
Federation, I reported to you about the Mary Bryant Home for Blind Men and Women
in Springfield, Illinois. The administrator of the home, Frances Trees, had
sent a letter to directors of rehabilitation agencies to try to drum up business
for the home. Included with the letter was a packet of information describing
the home and its services. A portion of the letter reads as follows:

Dear
Director:

As
you are aware, there comes a time in the lives of many visually impaired persons
when they are unable to live independently. Some younger persons return to their
homes following their education from a school for the visually impaired. In
many cases these young men and women are returning to homes where both parents
are employed outside the home and find themselves staying alone all day with
nothing to do.

The
Mary Bryant Home is a resource I wish you would consider when it comes to assisting
individuals or families to deal with the issue of placement. Currently our residents
range in age from twenty-four to ninety-six years of age.

Sincerely,

Frances J. TreesAdministrator

The nature of the resource
represented by the Mary Bryant Home is described in the material which accompanied
the letter. Here is part of the description:

The home is arranged for
convenience, on one level--no stairs. Hand rails are installed throughout the
home. Our full and part-time staff provide round-the-clock service to the residents
seeing to their health, safety, nutritional, recreational, and emotional needs.
Leave of absence may be taken by residents for a short period of time providing
the person taking the resident out sign a release of responsibility for injuries,
accidents, or illnesses which might occur during the time they are away from
the Mary Bryant Home.

[I
interrupt to wonder what would happen if the resident wanted to leave the Mary
Bryant Home unaccompanied. What would happen if the resident did not have somebody
available to sign a release of responsibility? Apparently this kind of independent
action is not permitted. But back to the information from the home.]

Personal property, other
than clothing, may be brought to the home only with the prior approval of the
Administrator. Food is prohibited in the resident rooms. Beer, wine, and other
intoxicating liquors: Only when approved by the resident's physician please,
and all items of this nature are to be kept at the Medicine Room, not in resident's
room. Incoming calls for residents may be received on the house phones, but
it would cause less confusion and less interruption if these calls were to be
made between the hours of 1:00 p.m. and 4:30 p.m.

As I said in 1987, there
is much more that might be said about the Mary Bryant Home, but this is enough
to make the point. For the blind independence of action cannot be found at the
Mary Bryant Home; for the blind there is no future. Decisions are made not by
the blind but by the administrator.

Not
long after our 1987 convention, I received a letter from the parents of twin
blind women who were residents at the Mary Bryant Home. Here is part of it:

We have in our possession
the Braille Monitor regarding an address delivered by Marc Maurer, President
of the National Federation of the Blind at a banquet of the annual convention
in Phoenix, Arizona, July 2, 1987.

We
are in agreement in this article that some blind people can and should achieve
academically and to their greatest capabilities. However, when they are not
able to do so, other arrangements must be made. Therefore, we as parents of
twin blind daughters appreciate the fact there are homes available for such
situations.

When
we were faced with the fact that it was time that we should be making some kind
of arrangements for our twins, who were thirty-two years old, and we might add,
they realized a home was to be found for their particular needs, we were very
fortunate and greatly impressed with the Mary Bryant Home.

One
of our daughters chose to go live at the home very soon and has been there since
May 1986. However, our other daughter did not make a decision until after spending
a three-week period there while we were on vacation. It was then she chose to
make the move in December 1986.

We,
and our daughters, have a deep respect for the rules at this home, for they
have their independence but also are well taken care of.

[I
interrupt to ask what kind of independence do you believe can be found at the
Mary Bryant Home? The parents leave us in no doubt. Here is what they say.]

It
is our opinion this home certainly meets the requirements of our daughters'
needs. There is freedom to attend church of their choice, join the choirs, participate
in community affairs as well as many activities at the home.

In
closing, it is our hope that a retraction of the statement made against the
Mary Bryant Home and Mrs. Frances Trees would be in order for the purpose it
serves for those who desperately need help.

Sincerely,

The
letter from the parents of these blind women says that there are blind people
who desperately need help. I believe the need is desperate, but it is not what
these parents believe it to be. When I checked a few weeks ago, these twin blind
women were still at the Mary Bryant Home; still subject to the rules and requirements,
arrangements and restrictions; still told when they can come, and when they
can leave; still forced to have somebody else assume responsibility for them
whenever they wish to be taken out of the home; still prohibited from having
food or drink in their rooms; still expected to make their phone calls between
1:00 and 4:30 p.m. But of course the blind women can attend a church of their
choice and can sing in the choir.

The
twin blind women who became inmates of the Mary Bryant Home in 1986 have been
waiting for an opportunity to gain independence for almost two decades. The
tragedy of their lives speaks loudly to me because, during the same year that
they entered the home, I was first elected president of the National Federation
of the Blind. I have participated in the growth of our organization and the
expansion of our activities during the years that these women have waited. We
have heard from their parents, and we have heard from the administrator of the
home, but we have not heard from the twin sisters because they have been convinced
that others should speak and act on their behalf and that their role is to wait.
In their case the waiting might continue forever.

The
impact of such restrictions, no matter how kindly meant, can be devastating.
Some years ago I received a letter from a former employee of a different home
which says, in part:

I don't know if you can
help, but I don't know who to turn to. I know a woman who is blind and living
in a group home. I have been told that blindness is her only disability and
that before living in the group home she led herself with a cane and could talk.
Now she does not talk and is completely withdrawn. She has been in the group
home for several years and has been allowed to slip farther and farther into
her darkness. She has little stimulation and has been allowed to completely
withdraw from the rest of the world.

I
am not a relative, so I don't know how I can help her. I am just someone who
used to work in the group home. I had tried to get the supervisors to take an
interest in her specific needs and to find ways to stimulate her and to teach
her. I can't keep from wondering how her life could be if she had the attention
and training that she has been without for so many years.

Such is the simple and
heartfelt plea of one human being seeking assistance to regain hope for another.
This plea emphasizes the urgent need for us to reject the demand that we wait
interminably for others to decide that there is a future for us. For this blind
woman and for all others who have been stashed away in warehouses for the blind
without stimulation, without independence, and without hope, we say this: we
will give you the spirit of determination and the guts that we have come to
know so well in the National Federation of the Blind. There is something better
to do with your lives and ours than to move to the home for the blind and wait
for life to ebb away in idleness and despair. The lives we have as blind people
are as important as any that exist, and we will live them. A life deferred is
a life denied, and we cannot tolerate delay. As we experiment with liberty,
we will make mistakes, but they will be our mistakes. We will learn from them,
and with the increased knowledge we will surmount the challenges that come.

The
poets tell us to wait and urge us to believe that there is honor in the waiting.
The bioethicists claim that our lives are less important than those of others
and that those of us who were blind before birth should have been aborted. Prevention
magazine alleges that our appetites change because of our inability to see food.
The keepers of the homes for the blind prey upon our lives to keep themselves
in business with restrictive rules, and they call their restrictions independence.
Such assertions are part of the reality of our lives, but this reality is changing
because it cannot withstand the force of our movement. Furthermore, this part
of the reality is only a small segment of the whole. The rest of the truth about
blindness is upbeat, spirited, and vibrant because we are writing the poetry
and creating the music for our own song of liberation. When we come together
in our thousands in the organized blind movement, we learn from each other,
inspire each other, support each other, and believe in each other.

Dr.
tenBroek founded our movement. Before he ceased to lead the Federation, Dr.
Kenneth Jernigan had come to be his student, his colleague, his beloved friend.
Dr. Jernigan became our beloved leader, and he dreamed of a future for us beyond
anything that we could have imagined.

People
come to visit the National Center for the Blind from all over the world; the
phones ring; and the mail comes pouring in. Coordination of effort occurs with
state affiliates, with local chapters, with special interest divisions, with
our training centers, and with other programs we have initiated. The National
Federation of the Blind Research and Training Institute is rising from the ground
and taking shape. Programs to address the special needs of the blind come into
being, and future programs are being planned. The number of hands that come
to the task is increasing at a rapid rate, and innovation occurs at all levels
within the movement.

Dr.
Jernigan, the man who established the National Center for the Blind, who took
so many of the phone calls, who wrote the articles and edited the books, who
traveled from our Center to all parts of the world, and who inspired his colleagues
with the beautiful cadence of his voice, comes no more. But the spirit that
was his--that spirit which he shared with Dr. tenBroek--is as bright in our
midst today as it has ever been, and our determination is as strong. The articles
continue to be written; the books continue to be published; the programs continue
to be planned; and the message continues to be delivered in our own country
and in lands beyond our borders. The message is simple, straightforward, and
noncomplex. It is this: we are the blind, and we carry the responsibility for
building our own future.

Many come to the task weary
and dispirited; they gain strength. Some feel discouragement; they gain faith.
Some are overwhelmed and disheartened; they gain hope. When the challenges come,
we will surmount them. When the doubters attempt to disparage our cause, we
will persuade them. When our detractors tell us that the price of freedom is
too great to be paid by the blind, we will demonstrate that we have the capacity
to do whatever is required for our own independence. We will not falter or hesitate
or diminish our effort. We take the path that we are destined to travel with
the spring of gladness in our step and the lilt of laughter in our hearts; and
we will prevail. With our imagination, with our courage, with our dedication,
and with our determined spirit, we must and will have liberty, and no force
on earth can stop us or turn us back. We will not defer; we will not delay;
we are no longer prepared to wait. The days ahead belong to us. Come, join me,
and we will make it come true!